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AN, ADDRESS 



REV. GEORGE W. PEPPER, 

Chaplain 40th U.S.I. 



DELIVERED AT 



RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, 



DECEMBER '10th, 1867. 



BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED BY PATRICK DONAHOE, 

19 <fe 21 FRANKLIN STREET. 

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AN ADDRESS 



BY THE 



REV. GEORGE W. PEPPER, 



it. • • f 

Chaplain 40th U.S.I. 



DELIVERED AT 



RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, 



DECEMBEJl 20th, 1867. 



BOSTON: 
PUELISHED BY PATRICK DONAHOE, 

19 & 21 FRANKLIN STREET. 

18 68. 






•**«TVf 



02 






ADDRESS. 



Mr. President : 

You have done me the honor to request that I should 
speak to-night on " Ireland," and I consider, therefore, that it is 
my duty to put you in possession of my opinions on a subject that is 
now agitating the British Government, and will continue to agitate 
until justice is done to the Irish nation — a justice demanding the 
utter destruction of that flag which has floated for centuries over the 
bones of a murdered people. My theme, then, is Ireland, the land 
of our affections and our hopes. There was a time when it was 
considered an evidence of utter degradation for a man to avow that 
he was a native of that distant and beloved isle. There was a time 
when, even in your beautiful city of Raleigh, the irresistible pen of 
a distinguished politician, a name known and honored throughout 
the land for staunch fidelity to the Union and civil liberty, had to be 
wielded in vindication of the rights of foreign born citizens under 
the Constitution and the laws. Thank God — and I say it with a 
rejoicing heart — those dark periods have passed away, and the 
thinking men of all classes are now eager to do justice to that coun- 
try, to which much of the prosperity and glory of this great nation is 
due. Ireland, heroic, illustrious island ! — once a word of reproach, 
veined with sneering irony, only spoken of by some religious 
bigot in a sermon, or by some marrowless politician on the 
stump to cover it with slander and abuse. History has written 
it as our proudest eulog}\ Geographically considered, it is but 
a small island, with an area of thirty-two thousand miles, and yet 
to most of her sons, scattered over the earth's wide surface, 
there is an indescribable charm and fascination in the very name. 
There are so many delightful associations over which one lingers in 
enthusiastic love, and which suggests to the mind illustrious memories 
of a time when it produced warriors, poets, saints and orators. The 



climate is so charming, the scenery is so full of nohle beauties, the 
soil is so fruitful, the men so brave, and the women so fair, and the 
whole people so brimful of wit and of a generous hospitality, that 
even the iron-hearted Cromwell exclaimed, while viewing the 
beautiful valley of the Nore from the cupalo of St. Canice, "Behold, 
here indeed is a land worth fighting for !" 

Geographers tell us that the world may be divided into two 
hemispheres, one of water and the other of land. Ireland is the 
centre of the land hemisphere. A most admired poet says " that 
her back is turned to Britain, and her face to the West," indicating 
that Ireland is favorably situated to become the great entrepot of the 
commerce between Europe and America. The Irish claim that the 
glory of discovering this continent belongs to one of their saints, St. 
Brenden, and that Ireland was the first, as she is now, the most 
friendly and trusted ally of the great Republic. That no other 
country, visited by travellers, approaches Ireland in natural attrac- 
tions, is the belief of every Irishman. Where else do we behold so 
many great and characteristic features ? where such mountains as the 
magnificent chain of the Connemaras ? where gardens so sylvan and 
lovely, with winding walks, like those in forests, fountains and 
springs ? where lakes like those of Killarney, where savage wihlness 
ceases to be terrible, because it is inconceivably lovely ? where 
cathedrals and churches of such grandeur and awe-inciting vastness ? 
where such a soil, fruitful enough to support fifteen millions of 
people? where else can we feel in every air which blows the spirit 
of health, the freedom from the world — the communion with one's 
self? 

Glorious old Ireland — the temple of nature where man casts off 
for a time all thoughts but of her, and drinks deep of the purest and 
loftiest sources of enjoyment — mighty and grand in thy unrivalled 
beauties ; wonderfully beautiful in thy enchanting loveliness, and 
thy mountains noble and magnificent images of eternal power and 
grandeur. 

" The Niobe of nations ! there she stands 
Childless anil crownless in her voiceless woe ; 

An empty urn within her withered hands ; 
"Whose holy dust was scattered long ago." 

Ireland is a heroic nation. The records of liberty are full of the 
praise of Irish valor. Satirical Voltaire, the cynic of the human 
race, may ridicule their gallantry, saying they fight everybody's 



5 

battles but their own. Can Greece, Rome, Switzerland, Holland, 
or even America, present more glorious fields, or more gallant 
struggles for freedom ? Their sieges are so many eulogisms, the 
most heroic are those of Derry, where the brave Walker held out 
against pestilence, famine, death, until God himself fought for him ; 
and that of Limerick where the immortal Sarsfield splendidly defied 
the bullets of the enemy. " Show me the man," said the Queen of 
Navarre, " that tells the nations that I am beautiful, that I may 
shower honors upon him." We love Davis for singing of Ireland's 
charms : — 

" Oh ! she is a rich and rare land ! Oh ! she is a fresh and fair land; 
She is a true and dear land, this native land of mine." 

The patriot Irishman loves to refer to the glorious period of the 
United Irishmen — producing a host of brilliant men, among them 
poor Emmet, the beau ideal of a soldier, a patriot, and a man. Pity 
smiles through her tears on the strange and chequered scenes of his 
life in connection, not only with the scaffold, which he made radiant 
and glorious as the cross, but also the tender and touching separation 
from him of the young and beautiful daughter of a well known Irish 
barrister. 

" It was the evening of a lovely day ; a young and beautiful girl 
stood at the prison gate, and desired admittance into the dungeon. 
She was closely vailed, and the keeper could not imagine who she 
was, nor that any one of such proud bearing should be an humble 
suppliant at the prison door. However, he granted the boon, led 
her to the dungeon, opened the massive door, then closed it again, 
and the lovers were alone. He was leaning against the prison wall, 
with a down-cast head, and his arms were folded upon his breast. 
Gently she raised the vail from her face, and Emmet turned to gaze 
upon all that earth contained for him, the girl whose sunny brow, in 
the days of his boyhood, had been his pole star ; the maiden who 
made him think the world was all sunshine. The clanking of his 
chains sounded like a death knell to her ears, and she wept like a 
child. Emmet said but little, yet lie pressed her to his heart. In a 
low voice, he besought her not to forget him when he was gone. He 
spoke of by-gone days ; the happiness of childhood, when his hopes 
were bright and glorious. 

" Hark ! the church bell sounded, and he remembered the hour of 
separation. The jailor entered, and after dashing the tears from his 



eyes, he separated thorn from their long embrace, and led the lady 
from the dungeon. At the entrance she turned ; their eyes met ; 
they could not say farewell. The door swung upon its heavy hinges, 
and they parted forever. The next day, a pale girl, with golden 
hair, lay upon the bed of death. O ! it was hard for her to die in 
that beautiful Erin, where the flowers bloom and the balmy air 
comes freshly to the pining soul. O ! no, her star was set, her heart 
was broken ! 

" When ties have been formed upon earth, what is more heart- 
rending and agonizing to the spirit than to find the beloved is 
snatched away, and all our love given to a passing floweret. 
Enough, she died, the betrothed of Robert Emmett." 

The muse of Byron has immortalized the maid of Saragossa ; why 
should the amiable Sarah Curran, the betrothed of Robert Emmett, 
be denied equal honors ? The story of the bridge of Wexford, where 
so many dauntless hearts suffered a cruel death by the remorseless 
soldiery ; and the recent butchery in Manchester, where three young 
Irishmen were strangled to death, show the desperate fidelity with 
which the sons of Erin cling to the unconquered purpose of securing 
independence fur the land of their fathers. Where in the annals of 
nations do we find such calm and dignified heroism in the very 
presence of death ? The murder of these gallant men has rung the 
death-knell of English domination in Ireland. From the depths of 
a million Irish hearts, on this side of the Atlantic, the cry of 
vengeance has gone forth. There, in the very heart of brutal 
England, these young heroes, lifted up their dying voices, kept their 
flags flying and broke forth in electric enthusiasm with the anthem — 
" God save Ireland!" Eternal honor to their memories. They 
leave behind them stainless names. To them be applied the lines of 
Arnold, for they realized the bold and beautiful sentiments they 
express : 

" Charge once more, then, and be dumb, 
Let the victors when they come, 
When the forts of folly fall, 
Find your bodies by the wall." 

If the cause of Ireland is not just, then there is no justice in earth 
or Heaven. For centuries her children have been kept in bondage 
the most cruel and degrading — the caves and fastnesses of the moun- 
tains have been their hiding place against the ferocious despotism 



that sought their destruction. Famines of recent years, inflicted by 
a British Providence, deprived Ireland of more than two millions of 
her children. In one year alone, thirty-three thousand houses were 
levelled to the ground by the Crowbar Brigade, and their inmates 
turned out on the roads to die of starvation and exposure. Fifty 
thousand were butchered by England in '98. The old passion has 
again seized the tyrant, and Irish blood has flowed once more. The 
three last consecrated martyrs of our race, whose daring and out- 
spoken words on the scaffold, have enrolled their names in the vast 
pantheon of freedom's champions. These men were not murderers. 
Back in your face, as a London editor truly says, oh, England, the 
foul stigma, which you cast upon our butchered countrymen, is flung. 
France will not hear it. America will not list to it ; the world will 
hold you guilty. Ireland, bleeding, beggared, trampled down in the 
earth, tells you that our three young countrymen, whose blood you 
deliberately and wantonly shed, were true patriots. Irish blood for 
many months has been thirsted for, and blood has at last slaked the 
thirst of the foul natures that yearned for it. The names of the 
illustrious triumvirate, Allen, O'Brien and Larkin, rise to the lips 
like a litany — their devotion to Ireland can never be forgotten until 
the sun turns into blood, and God ceases to rule in Heaven ! From 
the memorable day when Lord Edward Fitzgerald died in prison, 
exclaiming — " D — n you, come on /" down until the strangulation of 
these Christian patriots, Irish blood has often called for vengeance. 
Young Allen, as he marched to the scaffold, asked, " what will 
America say when she hears of it." As Poland looks to France, as 
the Christian looks to Palestine, so Ireland looks to America. But 
while we talk the dead are resting in their shrouds, and the living 
are mourning over them. They laid down their lives for Ireland, 
and though we cannot kneel upon their graves, or trace one fond 
line to their memories, yet their memories will always be green to 
the thousands who loved them and mourned them for Ireland's sake. 
The eloquent Gladstone, in his recent speech, ascribes Fenianism 
and all the troubles of Ireland to the misgovernment and oppression 
of England. Ireland complains that her land for hundreds of years 
has been deemed legitimate plunder for the rapacious and needy 
servants of the British crown. She complains that the most cruel 
tortures and the most savage measures have been used to force on her 
people a detested Church, where its members only form one twen- 



8 

tieth part of the population ; that Henry the Second pat the people 
to death because they did not want to be Catholics ; that Henry the 
Eighth did the same because they would not become Protestants ; 
that Cromwell the saint, 

" The mildest mannered man 

That ever scuttled ship or cut a throat," 

put them to the sword because they were loyal to the king. 

She complains that Elizabeth fomented revolts, murdering a 
million of the Irish, in order that there might be estates enough for 
each importunate courtier. 

She complains that an English king stole the Earl of Desmond's 
estate, six hundred thousand acres — that James the First seized six 
counties ; that eight million acres, two-thirds of the island, were 
distributed among the supporters of Cromwell. 

She complains that William of Orange, he of glorious memory, 
turned out four thousand families to die upon the road, and then 
established a penal code worthy of Herod. 

She complains that the Second George disfranchised five-sixths of 
her population, drove a hundred thousand to the army of France. 

She complains that her clergy were hunted and massacred. 

She complains that seven millions of money, supported by a 
hundred thousand bayonets, united Ireland to England. 

She complains that millions of tithes are wrung from an over- 
worked peasantry to support a miserable set of sporting bishops. 

She complains that when the sword failed to exterminate, that 
England, the Christian nation, the Empire of Hell, organized peri- 
odical famines in the years 1817, 1831, 1837, 1847, reducing Ireland 
from a population of eight millions to half that aggregate. 

She complains that the frightful wars of 1641, the revolt of 1798, 
and the insurrection of 1848 were created by England for the 
extirpation of the Celtic race. 

She complains that confiscation, banishment, and the gibbet, have 
been used by the Government of England, for the speedy and com- 
plete destruction of the Irish people. 

She complains that for five hundred years the flower of every 
generation of Irishmen have been killed on the battle fields, or mur- 
dered on the scaffold, or driven into desolate exile for love of Ireland. 

She complains that the sacred charter of manhood, without which 



9 

our life is lower than the dogs, is trampled under the feet of her 
foreign lords. 

Ireland, in the face of Europe, in the face of America, in the face 
of the great Creator, is amply justified in entering upon a war with 
England ; the people can do so with a free conscience and a full 
assurance that it is Heaven's work. It has heen truly and forcibly 
said, by a powerful writer, that it is no light or factious quarrel. 

It is Ireland's last resource, long evaded, long postponed. The 
rights which she sought in vain to purchase with her tears, she 
springs up at last to purchase with her heart's blood. In the coming 
onset the Irish people will have the sympathies of the true and 
good. The earth is weary of their groans ! 

They fight for liberty to live. Hundreds of thousands of Irishmen 
would again die in the tortures of famine if they continue to bow 
their necks to the Parliament of England ! They fight for liberty to 
retain the rights of manhood — that in common with every nation in 
Europe, they may possess arms to defend themselves. They fight 
to resist outrages more grievous and dishonoring than those for 
which an English King was brought to the block — outrages which 
at this hour would cause the swords of France to spring from their 
scabbords to strike dead their audacious author. They fight because 
they are denied peace except at the price of dishonor — because their 
hero leaders are doomed to the prison and to the gallows. They 
light because the honor, the interest, the happiness, the necessity, the 
very existence of that ancient nation depends upon the valor of the 
present time. If the Irish at home cower, flinch, or falter, then the 
hopes are gone for which their fathers gave their life's blood. Gone 
in the stench of dishonor and infamy that will cling to it forever. 
In God's name let the struggle begin. Oh ! that my words could 
burn like molten metal through your veins, and light up the ancient 
heroic daring which would make each Irishman a Leonidas — each 
battle-field a Marathon — each pass a Thermopylae ! 

In the Legislative halls of the Government, it has been asserted 
that Ireland is unworthy of her independence, because forsooth some 
recreant Irishmen in this country, have steadily acted with and 
voted for the slave lords of the South. That Ireland is the friend 
of oppression, in any form, is false. While other nations became 
rich and powerful by the sale of human beings, to the immortal 
honor of Ireland be it stated that no slave ship dared ever to enter 
her harbors. The greatest of dead Irishmen was Daniel O'Connell. 



10 

Like Berryer and Mirabeau, he was the orator of great masses of 
men. He struck down to the very earth, at a single blow, the 
rampant rhetoric of those who defended slavery in the English 
House of Commons. The advocates of oppression retreated and 
quailed before him. Hear what he said years ago when the slave, 
Frederick Douglas, was introduced to him in Conciliation Hall. 
This was a grand speech — as sublime a warning against oppression 
as ever fell from the lips of any Reformer. It was finely delivered, 
overwhelming in its logic, majestic in its rhetoric, biting in its 
sarcasm, melting in its pathos, and burning in its rebukes. "I have 
been assailed for attacking the American institution — negro slavery. 
I am not ashamed of that attack. I do not shrink from it. I am 
the advocate of civil and religious liberty, all over the globe. And 
wherever tyranny exists, I am the foe of the tyrant. Wherever 
oppression exists, I am the foe of the oppressor. Wherever slavery 
rears its head, I am the enemy of the system. 1 am the friend of 
liberty in every clime, class, and color. My sympathy with distress 
is not confined to my own green Isle. No ! It extends itself to 
every corner of the earth. My heart walks abroad, and wherever 
the miserable are to be succored or the slave to be set free, there my 
spirit is at home and there I delight to dwell." 

Glorious Emancipator ! These are noble words and nobly spoken. 
O'Connell was in his happiest mood. The fire of Freedom was 
burning in his mighty heart. The eloquent Douglas sat like a statue. 
How his heart throbbed and his eyes flashed as the Liberator 
pronounced this vivid and powerful address ! 

Here is another blast from O'Connell's bugle : — " If there be in 
the huts of Africa, or amidst the swamps of the Carolinas, a human 
bein" - panting for freedom, let it be proclaimed to him that he has 
friends in Ireland. A voice shall be raised in the old Irish nation 
which will roll back in thunder to America, which will mingle with 
her mighty waves, and which will cause one universal shout of 
liberty to be heard throughout the world. My humble words shall 
make way against the Western breezes ; they . shall ascend the 
Mississippi, they shall descend the Missouri, they shall be heard 
along the banks of the Ohio and of the Potomac, till the black man 
would leap with delight to express his gratitude to those who had 
effected his emancipation. And, oh ! (But perhaps it was his pride 
that dictated the hope that some black 0' Connell might rise among 



11 

his fellow-slaves who would cry), 'Agitate! agitate! till the four 
millions learned the secret of their strength.' " The voice of 
O'Connell shall be heard, to use his own magic words, "riding 
against the blast as thunder goes, and telling the slave that the time 
for his emancipation has come, and his oppressor, that the period of 
his injustice is soon to terminate." How he lashes the villany^ 
loathes the hypocrisy, excoriates sham republicans and spurious 
Christians. 

My fellow-countrymen, think of these words of O'Connell, Ireland 
incarnate. — Think of all that he has said — think of it till your bosom 
swells, your soul is on fire, your pulses thrill with excitement. 
Thomas Francis Meagher, the most accomplished and talented 
Irishman who ever made this country his home, was the first General 
of the Union army to declare for negro suffrage. He said, speaking 
of negro soldiers : " By their fidelity and splendid soldiership, such 
as at Fort Wagner and Port Hudson, gave to their bayonets an 
irresistible electricity. The black heroes of the army have not only 
entitled themselves to liberty, but to citizenship ; and the Democrat 
who would deny them the rights for which their wounds and glorified 
colors so eloquently plead, is unworthy to participate in the greatness 
of the nation, whose authority these disfranchised heroes did so 
much to vindicate." 

Right, brave Meagher ! 

When Douglas escaped from the grip of slavery, he went to 
Ireland, landing at Cork. He had a triumphal reception from the 
city authorities. A magnificent procession was formed, headed by 
several bands of music, and Douglas, though sitting in a carriage 
with Father Mathew, was taken out and carried to the banqueting 
hall on the shoulders of the multitude. A feature of the ovation 
was a colored boy and an Irish boy chained together, typical of 
the enslavement of the two races. Love of liberty is inherent in 
the breast of every Irishman. The antipathy of some of our race 
to the negroes has its origin in the teaching of England. " Wherever 
the English have ruled, prejudice against color exists. In Spain, 
France, Mexico, it does not exist. The Turcos are popular with the 
French, and yet they are black." Courage, then, my countrymen, 
for the right, the beautiful and the true. Have we not sworn fidelity 
to liberty in a thousand passionate words, by our poets and orators, 
in the grave resolves of councils, leagues, and confederations ? 



12 

Stand by the Union party — the party of patriotism, the party of 
progress, the powerful party that abolished slavery, squelched rebel- 
lion, and established the integrity and grandeur of the national 
domain. 

The comic preacher of Brooklyn, Ward Beecher, in his recent 
Thanksgiving Sermon, took occasion to indulge in ironical allusions 
to the Irish race — calling the European emigrants, particularly the 
Celts, " a black vomit." Though our countrymen have contributed 
so much by their energy and enterprise to the wealth and greatness 
of the country ; though their blood was poured out in torrents on 
every battlefield of the Union, adding brighter lustre to the stripes, 
and making the stars of our time-honored flag shine with keener 
splendor ; though they have sworn fidelity to the fortunes of the 
nation in many a fierce tempest of the Mexican and Indian wars ; 
though their blood fattens every valley, and their bones bleach on 
every mountain, from Bunker Hill to the city of Mexico ; though 
they have written a vindication of their loyalty in their heart's 
blood at Fort Donelson, Stone River, Corinth, Chattanooga, Malvern 
Hill, Antietam, Resaca, Atlanta, Gettysburg, Fair Oaks, Petersburg 
and Fredericksburg, where the Irish brigade stemmed the tide of 
battle, and with a united Irish cheer, charged upon the foe, leaving 
sixteen hundred dead and wounded in the hands of the victorious 
Confederates. In the honored graves in which many of them sleep 
to-day, they are far above the flippant sneers and criticisms of the 
cold-blooded, narrow-minded Beecher. 

Emerson speaks of foreigners as courteously as the Arch bigot of 
Brooklyn : — " The Irish and Germans come over here in shoals to 
dig our canals and manure our fields with their bones, and leave no 
further trace of themselves." 

Poor Emerson and Beecher ! Do they know that Irish intellect, 
boldness, and industry have contributed many brilliant chapters to 
the history of the two greatest nations of the earth ? Three of the 
signers of the great Declaration of Independence were Irishmen. 
Among the first to sympathize with the oppressed inhabitants of 
New England and to express indignation at British outrages were 
the militia officers of this grand State of North Carolina, all of 
whom were Irishmen. Their declaration of independence in 1776, 
one year before Jefferson wrote the immortal charter, is full of 
eloquent indignation at the tyranny of England. Jefferson's great 



13 

document contains many of the ideas and phrases of the Irish delegates 
of the Mecklenburg Convention. — Here is one of their resolutions : 

" That we do hereby declare ourselves a free and independent people ; are. and of 
right ought to be, a sovereign, self-governing association, under the control of no 
power than that of our God and the general government of the Congress; to the 
maintenance of which independence we solemnly pledge to each other our mutual 
co-operation, our lives, our fortunes, and our most sacred honor." 

Charles Carroll, of Carrolton, who devoted his princely fortune, 
and Robert Morris, of Philadelphia, who poured out his wealth like 
water, to replenish the scanty coffers of the impoverished colonies, 
were Irishmen. One-third of the revolutionary soldiers who defended 
New York, New Jersey and Massachusetts from the British hosts, 
Avere Irishmen. Chivalrous Montgomery, who fell on the heights 
of Quebec, with the stars and stripes flying above his head, was an 
Irishmen. Thomas Addis Emmet, the polished diamond of the New 
York bar and Attorney- General of the State, was an Irishman. 
The Pennsylvania legion, whose blood was shed in noble defence of 
liberty, were Irishmen. Blannerhassett, the man of letters, of 
music, of philosophy, was an Irishman. Wellington, the great 
military captain, was an Irishman. The sweetest poet of the English 
tongue was Moore, an Irishman. Many of the renowned poets, 
orators and dramatists were Irishmen. The brilliant and powerful 
dramatic orator, Henry Grattan, whose eloquence was the very 
music of freedom, was an Irishman. Curran, the eloquent advocate 
and fearless champion of mankind, was an Irishman. The humorous, 
witty and patriotic Dean Swift, the most powerful writer of our 
language, was an Irishman. Edmund Burke, the loftiest name in 
British annals and a tower of strength to the struggling colonies, 
was an Irishman. Richard Lalor Sheil, the poet and orator, whose 
eloquence could even charm the serpents of despotism, was an 
Irishman. Knox, Thompson, Barry, Paul Jones, McDonough and 
Jackson, patriots of the past, were of Irish birth and blood. Sheridan, 
who, according to Byron, wrote the best comedy and pronounced 
the best oration in the English language, was an Irishman. Sterne, 
Steele, Usher, Lardner and Goldsmith, the exile from Auburn, 
" loveliest village of the plain," novelists and philosophers, were all 
Irishmen. Canning, the accomplished diplomatist, who often saved 
England from ruin, was an Irishman. Hogan and Machlese, great 
painters, were Irishmen. Generals Napier and Gough, splendid 
soldiers, are Irishmen. Daniel O'Conneil, mighty in eloquence, and 



14 

whose commanding majesty of soul embraced within the circle of 
hi.-; sympathies all religions and races, was an Irishman. Meagher, 
the splendid orator and patriot, whose eloquence even rivalled that 
of Sheil, was an Irishman. Shields, the shot-proof soldier, the only 
General who ever gained a victory over Stonewall Jackson, is an 
Irishman. Charles O'Connor and James T. Brady, the foremost 
lawyers of the American bar, are Irishmen's sons. Sheridan, the 
great military genius of the country, a bulwark in war and a marvel 
of a soldier, is an Irishman. Mulligan, the gifted soldier, martyr 
and orator. Conners, the great senator from California, and John 
A. Logan, the heroic commander of the Army of the Tennessee, 
honored names and decidedly Irish. 

The illustrious Catholic Prelates, Bishops England, Kenrick, 
Hughes, were Irishmen and of Celtic lineage. Bishop Simpson, 
the renowned orator, the thunder and lightning of whose eloquence 
compelled even the London Times, to wonder and applaud, is of 
Irish origin. Charles Elliott, famous for Theological learning, every 
drop of blood that warms his generous heart is Irish. Henry Giles, 
the delicious essayist and charming lecturer, is a genuine Irishman. 
Shelton Mackensie, distinguished for classical attainments and 
splendor of diction is a pure Celt. M. Cullough (Mack), the 
accomplished phenographer and genial correspondent, is a young 
Irishman. Miles O'Reilly, poet, scholar, editor and soldier patriot, 
is an Irishman. Powers and Crawford, the sculptors were of Irish 
extraction. The first General officer killed in the revolutionary 
war, the first officer of Artillery appointed, the first Commodore 
commissioned, the first victor to whom the British flag was struck at 
sea, and the first officer who surprised a fort by land, were Irishmen, 
and with such enthusiasm did the emigrants from the ' Green 'isle' 
espouse the cause of liberty that Lord Mountjoy declared in Parlia- 
ment " You lost America by the Irish." 

The Irish race has given Generals and Marshals to France, 
Spain, Austria, and Russia. These are a few of the great and 
brilliant names which illuminate the sombre annals of poor Ireland. 
Proud, glorious old land, with such a brilliant past, and with sons 
who are now in administrative, military, and diplomatic circles, 
adding splendor to Ireland's fame ; who would not rather be one of 
thy children than be Beecher and Emerson, loathed by mankind ? 

Here the lecturer gave a rapid and comprehensive narrative of 



15 

Irish politics, referring in glowing and eloquent terms to the Young 
Ireland movement of '48. He said that " the original founders of 
this splendid revolutionary organization were young men of fine 
talents and stainless morals. They aimed at securing the independ- 
ence of Ireland by the use of physical force. O'Connell, the leader 
of the old organization, in a speech of great eloquence, denounced 
the young Republicans, remarking in his huge, lion-like style, that 
he would put his paw on them, and then introduced his famous 
resolution, that no liberty was worth the shedding of a drop of 
blood. Meagher, the brightest orator in the Confederation, replied 
to O'Connell in a magnificent and sublime speech, in which occurs 
his celebrated apostrophe to the sword. The young Ireland party 
was then formed, and around it gathered the intelligence and young 
hopes of the nation. Brennan says that a national literature soon 
sprang up. It was based on a warm love of liberty, while its 
graceful shaft was wreathed around with flowers of female enthusi- 
asm. The names of Duffy, Williams, Davis, Mitchel, Meagher, 
Lalor, Managan, a noble brotherhood of poets and orators, soon 
spread with electric enthusiasm from Waterford to Derry. A new 
spirit inspired the people. Clubs were formed throughout the 
island, and the young men of culture were enrolled by thousands 
under the banners of the Confederates. The intrepid Meagher 
travelled extensively, addressing immense crowds who were eager to 
gather around the Republican standard. Those speeches of Meagher's 
were sublime bursts of eloquence, which have seldom, if ever, been 
equalled even by himself. Mitchell was everywhere hailed as a 
Tribune, and his strong, stern, magnificent denunciations of British 
misrule met with a hearty response in the breasts of thousands who 
were longing for the utter destruction of a government that upheld 
its domination in Ireland by a hundred thousand bayonets. " My 
father, sir," said he, in his clear, ringing tones, " was a United 
Irishman, and carried arms in defence of his country's freedom. Do 
you dare to tell me that I must abhor and stigmatize the memory of 
my own father." The revolution soon commenced. What genius 
was wasted on that struggle — what noble, loving hearts were 
broken ! The gifted leaders were caught, and transported to the 
white rocks of Bermuda. Some of them died in poverty and 
anguish. In a dark, cold, cheerless hospital died Managan of the 
tuneful harp, Lalor, the fiercest rebel of them all, and most dangerous 



16 

Democrat in Britain, sank gradually into a lonely grave. In dark 
dungeons on the Southern seas, far from the old land they loved so 
well, scores of them fretted and pined against their chains. O'Brien, 
distinguished for his varied and profound learning, as well as for the 
goodness of his heart and simplicity of manners, died of a broken 
heart in Wales. Maurice Leyne, an orator of splendid gifts, his 
war-cry always floated clear and strong against England, and his 
dashing temper and fine abilities were always in requisition when 
Ireland was assailed. He sleeps in magnificent Tipperary. 
Meagher, the eloquent confessor of a manly faith, the Chrysostom 
of his suffering country, distinguished for wonderful depth and 
variety of language, his bright soul was quenched in the fatal waters 
of the Missouri. The last time, but one, that I met him, was at 
Nashville, Tennessee. He was full of anecdotes of the war, and 
especially of his Irish Erigade. One story that he told is too good 
to be lost. He said he was leading his men to the front in one of 
the seven days' battles, when an aid rode by and gave him the news 
that our army had carried a certain strategic point, and captured 
several colors. " D'ye hear that, boys?" shouted Meagher. "Our 
men have won the day and captured the enemy's colors. Just as I 
said that," remarked Meagher, "a private, who was plunging along, 
out of one muddy hole into another, look up to me and said, ' Ah, 
Gineral ! I'd rather hev a pint of O'Dinnis McGinnis' whiskey than 
all the colors of the rainbow.'" 

It was while here that he came out for the Republican party, 
delivering an address of wonderful eloquence and power. The 
President of the United States, and other distinguished men who 
listened to it, can never forget its magical influence over the vast 
audience. 

I well remember Meagher's visit to my native city, Belfast. I 
sat by his side. All eyes were centered on this eloquent young 
rebel. " There is mind and eloquence in him," muttered a scholarly 
philosopher, as Meagher just finished one of his brilliant illustrations 
in a beautiful and stately climax. The orator's voice became more 
melodious, rich and impassioned. Every eye is fixed, and as he 
depicts the wrongs of Ireland, every hand is clenched. In the short 
space of half an hour, distance was annihilated, time forgotten and 
the audience found itself surrounded by their oppressors, amidst 
whips, fetters, packed juries, murder, famine and death ! The soul 



17 

of the orator which kindled as he advanced, burned within him and 
the flame communicated itself to the whole* of the vast assembly. 
To such as were capable of calm observation, the scene was grand 
and sublime. As he approached the close of his magnificent speech, 
he gave a lightning glance at the atrocities of England, invoked the 
people to rise and rid themselves forever of the accursed Union. 

"I arrest you," exclaimed an officer of the law. "No, by 
heaven," responded the gallant Meagher, and in these immortal 
words confounded the soldiery: "I can and will retract nothing, 
because it is neither safe nor wise to do anything contrary to con- 
science ! Here I stand. I cannot do otherwise ! God help me." 

The next day five thousand men joined the young Ireland party 
and prepared to raise the standard of revolt. England trembled — 
matters were coming to a climax. Meagher was arrested; the 
mockery for trial was given him, and he was sentenced to be hung. 
His bearing during the trial was grand, elevated and heroic. His 
speech on the occasion has never been surpassed either in elegance 
of composition or in haughty defiance of the power that sentenced 
him to a felon's death. Subsequently this sentence was commuted 
to banishment for life in Van Diemen's land. 

I saw him again at Washington at the princely residence of Mr. 
Coyle. He was accompanied by his charming wife, a lady whose 
beauty and accomplishments have made her a conspicuous ornament 
in every circle of polite society. The General was a passionate 
lover of the Republic. When an exile in Australia he always kept 
its flag flying from the Speranza on Lake Sorrell, where he and his 
companions spent pleasant hours. Meagher was brilliant in conver- 
sation. He talked of poor Ireland, her sorrows, struggles, and 
hopes. He inquired particularly and earnestly of Mitchell, whom I 
had recently met in Richmond. He spoke kindly, tenderly, and 
with evident emotion of his old friend and fellow sufferer, referring 
in touching terms to their early friendship and labors in the cause of 
their country. The observation was made, that perhaps we might 
never meet again, and with a superb smile he answered, " If not 
here, we shall meet yonder beyond the cedars and the stars." 

Mozart died finishing the requiem that was first destined to be 

chanted over its creator, and then to enchant creation. Be Liles 

wrote the chant that conducted him to the scaffold and which, then 

and since is the war cry of his nation " Tlie Marsettaise." Tasso 

2 



18 

lived long, yet died only when appreciated, the blithe notes of fame 
singing him out of the world with the laurels on his brow for a 
death chaplet. And Thomas Francis Meagher has fallen in the 
very bloom and promise of a brilliant manhood. By the millions of 
his countrymen in all lands his death will be profoundly lamented. 
His sincere and indefatigable efforts for the independence of dear 
old Erin endeared him to his countrymen. Americans will not 
forget him, for around his name are linked imperishable memories 
gathered at Bull Run, through the Peninsula's gloomy campaigns 
and Antietam's bloody plains ; in the desperate charge at Fredericks- 
burg. His grand and impassioned orations for an undivided 
nationality will cause the natives of the United States to weep for 
the loss of an adopted son, in whom 

" The love of liberty with life was given, 
And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven." 

His old comrades in arms, and scores of others, will deeply regret 
the death of an old fellow-soldier who had so often given many 
signal proofs of devotion to the land of his adoption. 

Thomas Francis Meagher, in appearance, was a fine specimen of 
a genuine Celt. He was of medium height, a captivating personnel, 
a florid face, brilliant eyes, glowing with the fires of patriotism. His 
countenance was thoroughly Milesian, large, open, genial, plump 
and ruddy. His voice was the very music of freedom. Meet him 
in sociable moments, he was overflowing with wit and humor of the 
rarest kind, caustic and cutting against intriguers, speculators and 
political charlatans, but genial and flowing towards his friends, full 
of buoyant vivacity, wit and historical lore, he was a genial, instruc- 
tive and delightful companion. He was as pleasant a friend as 
Lever ever painted in any of his novels — his strongest weakness 
was a devoted love of the social pleasures. This was the head and 
front of his offending. In the light of those heroic sacrifices which 
made the early days of his career illustrious, his friends may well 
forget the errors from which no mortal is free, and rank his name 
high in the list of those who have deserved well of their country 
and made their mark upon their day and generation. 

Our lips tremble as we speak of that sad July night, when in the 
turbulent waters of the Missouri, our gifted friend and brightest 



19 

model of a patriot, was drowned and lost to Ireland forever. The 
fatal tidings of his tragic death, caused sorrow and poignant grief to 
the households of tens of thousands of Irish scattered over the wide 
surface of the earth. That one so gifted, so generous and impetuous, 
so fervid and daring, so unflinchingly true to the great principles of 
Liberty, and one whose brilliant qualities of head and heart, amply 
proved that he was the truest type of chivalry and patriotism, should 
be suddenly swept out of existence. 

The sons and daughters of the old land, which he loved so well, 
will bend with infinite tenderness over the sad and awful fate of 
Thomas Francis Meagher, the daring leader, the brilliant orator, the 
genial fi-iend and chivalrous gentleman. Sacred memories of my 
lamented friend come over me at this moment. I hear once more 
his bright, musical and inspired oration, in which is contained his 
splendid apostrophe to the sword. It is no wonder that even Henry 
Grattan exclaimed that Meagher's speeches displayed the talent of 
Junius, the spirit of Burke, and the courage of Blood and Plunkett. 
Then his calm, brave address in the Dock when sentenced to be 
hung and quartered. This was one of the noblest and grandest of 
speeches. It was distinguished by purity and elegance of composi- 
tion, as well as by a haughty and gallant defiance of the English 
butchers, who were thirsting for his blood. This magnificent burst 
of eloquent indignation is sufficient to make his memory eternal. I 
have thought that amid the convulsions of expiring worlds Gabriel 
covering this and Emmett's memorable vindication from the confla- 
gration, will transfer them to the Throne of the Eternal. We are 
all familiar with Meagher's great and devoted gallantry during the 
war for the Union. The dead Gael was always present when the 
embattled hosts were charging the hottest, performing 'prodigies of 
valor. 

His farewell words to the Irish Brigade ; his inspiring and noble 
counsels ; the tokens of love, gratitude, and kindness, which his fiery 
and splendid soldiers poured upon him as he left them ; his triumphal 
journey through the North, arousing the dormant patriotism of our 
people ; his grand orations in defence of the Stars and Stripes, the 
grandest flag that ever swept the breeze ; these and a thousand other 
bright and conspicuous chapters of Meagher's eventful life must be 
left to the historian and biographer. I have before me now, several 
charming letters which he wrote me from Montana. In every line 



20 

there breathes patriotic devotion to America, his adopted country, 
and to Ireland, his native land. It is sad and mournful to reflect 
that after escaping the vicissitudes of dreary exile, and the fearful 
perils of a hundred battles, our dear friend should at last so suddenly 
perish beneath the resistless waves of the pitiless Missouri. Meagher 
still lives. His beautiful fancy, persuasive eloquence, and splendid 
gifts, (devoted to humanity in its broadest, noblest sense) will always 
plead for that distant isle, in whose behalf Grattan plead and Emmett 
died. In the great day of Ireland's redemption, when her brave 
sons unite to break her chains, then Meagher's spirit, like a blazing 
pillar of fire, will lead them to victory and triumph. 

"With what crushing agony must the sad news of his death, have 
fallen on his noble wife, who though possessing all the refinements 
and elegance of a highly cultivated lady, left the splendor of a luxu- 
rious and opulent home, to follow the fortunes of the Irish Brigade, 
partaking of the commonest fare, so that as a good angel, she might 
be ever near her devoted husband. The refined grace of her manner, 
the loveliness of her person, the sweetness and gentleness of her 
disposition, — these unrivalled charms before which gallant men 
bowed in homage, made her the model of elegance and refinement. 
A lady so accomplished, and so handsome, was worthy to be the 
peerless wife of the illustrious and beloved Thomas Francis Meagher. 
In every nation where Irishmen revere the memory of the dead 
patriot, his noble widow will have their prayers and sympathies. 

Honored Meagher ! true patriot ! gallant soldier ! genial friend ! 
All hail and farewell ! Take your crown and harp. Dwell forever 
in beautiful repose. In the grandeur of Eternal peace be the 
companion of Emmett, of Fitzgerald, of Lincoln, and of all those 
patriot heroes who, during the recent struggle, fell, making life 
illustrious and death divine ! 

Adieu ! gallant Meagher ! thou art buried in light ! God speed 
thee to Heaven, lost star of our night ! Brother of my heart ! friend 
of my soul ! farewell ! ! 

Thomas Davis, another of that splendid host, brave-hearted, highly 
gifted Davis, lies in the cold clay in Glassneven. He fell in the 
ranks, and was lost to Ireland forever. " My work is hilling me" 
were almost his last words. " I read with dimmed eyes," wrote 
O'Connel, "the noblest youth of his time was no more." Davis 
possessed a soft, sweet voice. His poems are instinct with heroic 



21 

life. The following stanzas of one of his poems exhibit tenderness 
and pathetic passion : — 

" Come in the evening, or come in the morning, 
Come when you are looked for, or come without warning, 
Kisses and welcome you will find here before you, 
And the oftener you come the more I'll adore you, 
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted, 
Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted ; 
The green of the trees looks far greener than ever, 
And the linnets are singing, true lovers don't sever." 

His political songs were like the blasts of a trumpet, arousing the 
careless, and summoning the victims of tyranny to tireless action for 
life and land. For instance, what more thrilling than this ? 

What rights the brave ? 

The sword. 
What frees the slave ? 

The sword. 
What strikes the crown of tyrants down, 
And answers with its flash their frown ? 

The sword. 

John Mitchell was a deft controversalist, always ready for a 
polemic combat, an uncompromising and unconquered rebel against 
the English government. His manner is that of the essayist who 
reads and comments, rather than that of the orator who captivates. 
"While admiring his splendid genius and unselfish devotion to Ireland, 
every lover of liberty was shocked by his apostacy to the slave 
power and defence of the horrid rebellion. 

Then there was John Martin, a cultivated gentleman, distinguish- 
ed for the finished dignity of his manner, and a Republican in prin- 
ciple and practice. He has recently been seized by the officers of 
England for a few earnest words spoken in condemnation of the 
Manchester massacre. 

Managan possessed a mind of great originality, a strong and fervid 
imagination. Joseph Brennan, who sleeps beside him, was a clever, 
genial and charming poet. The following lines possess much sweet- 
ness and grace : — 

" Come to me, dearest — I'm lonely without thee, 
Day-time and night-time, I'm thinking about thee ; 
Night-time and day-time, in dreams I behold thee, 
Unwelcome my waking which ceases to fold thee. 
Come to me darling, my sorrows to lighten, 
Come in thy beauty to bless and to brighten, 
Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly; 
Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy. 



22 

Come to me dear, ere I die of my sorrow, 

Rise on my gloom like the sun of to-morrow, 

Strong, swift and fond as the words which I speak, love, 

With a song at your lip, and a smile on your cheek, love. 

Come, for my heart in your absence is weary — 

Haste, for my heart is sickened and dreary ; 

Come to the arms which alone should caress thee, 

Come to the heart which is throbbing to press thee." 

This beautiful poem was written by poor Brennan to his wife in 
Ireland, when he was an exile in New Orleans. 

Richard Dalton Williams was a fine scholar and a charming poet. 
He was so gentle, and so transparent, that one could not help loving 
him. He was a medical student in Dublin, and his beautiful song 
of the "Dying Girl," was composed while discharging his duties at 
the Hospitals. He came to America, and was engaged for a time in 
a College as Professor, and died in New Orleans, greatly beloved. 
His poems are rich, sweet, clear, and melodious, replete with beauti- 
ful imagery. His truly touching and beautiful lines on the " Dying 
Girl," are much admired, and have attained a wide popularity in 
Ireland and America. 

From a Munster vale they brought her, 

From the pure and balmy air, 
An Ormond's peasant daughter, 

With blue eyes and golden hair. 
They brought her to the city 

And she faded slowly there, 
Consumption hath no pity 

For blue eyes and golden hair. 

When I saw her first reclining, 

Her lips were moved in prayer, 
And the setting sun was shining 

On her loosened golden hair. 
When our kindly glances met her, 

Deadly brilliant was her eye, 
And she said that she was better, 

While we knew that she must die. 

At length the harp is broken, 

And the spirit in its strings, 
As the last decree is spoken, 

To its source exulting springs. 
Descending swiftly from the skies 

Her guardian angel came, 
He struck God's lightning from her eyes, 

And bore him back the name. 



L.lH l*. 



23 

To the distinguished list of these who first and longest upheld the 
rebel flag against England in '48, must be added the name of the 
noble conspirator, Thomas Devin Reilly, a polished gentleman and 
a brilliant scholar. I am at a loss which most to admire, the intrepid 
leader who marshalled the conflict with injustice and tyranny, or the 
devoted patriot who sacrificed property, and the joys of a happy 
home, that Ireland might be delivered from the cowardly and treach- 
erous English Parliament. The last hours of this gifted patriot, 
gallant traitor, and enthusiastic friend of liberty, demonstrated that 
the noble passion of his life was strong in death. John Mitchell, 
his devoted friend, tells how that with his dear wife at his side, and 
his little daughter playing at his knee, he calmly and grandly died, 
like a true Irish patriot. Thank God our martyrs die well. 
Reilly's thirtieth birthday arrived, and he knew his fate was come. 
He was in good health, but told his wife he must die. He often 
started up, threw open the window, and said the room smelled of 
Death. To his powerful imagination every thing was an omen of 
doom, and at night he heard the Banshee of his clan wailing along 
the shores of the Potomac. The last night of his earthly existence, 
he called his household around him, filled a bumper, and there 
standing on his floor, looking calmly into his early grave, with a> 
bold and sunny smile upon his lip, and tears streaming down his 
rough face, he pledged his last toast, — Old Ireland. After that 
touching good night to "Ireland," he retired in his usual health ; in 
the morning he was a corpse. Talk of heroic deaths. I challenge 
the world to exhibit a single instance worthy of being placed by the 
side of such a grand, beautiful example. 

There were others, equally distinguished, who sacrificed all for 
the old land. John Savage, the scholar, essayist, and poet. Charles 
Gavan Duffy, one of nature's most gifted orators. Michael Doheny, 
tho fearless champion of Democracy, and such familiar names as 
McManus, Dillon, O'Gormon, O'Doherty, Smythe, Davis the Belfast 
man, and the charming female poets, Speransa and Eva. 

The young Ireland movement produced its legitimate effect— the 
revolutionary Literature generated by these brilliant scholars and 
orators, was not banished with its authors ; their songs, essays, 
speeches, fell on the fiery Irish heart like sparks of electric fire. 
The Republican spirit was not quenched, but only waited for an 
opportunity to flame forth with greater intensity and power. Years 



24 

rolled on, and thousands of our race starved to death by British 
agencies. New taxes, new coercion bills, new insults, new robberies 
were inflicted upon the suffering people. At last a decision was 
formed. The intelligent and energetic classes resolved and prepared 
to make their proud demand for life and independence. The Fenian 
Brotherhood was organized. In a few years it created and fostered 
a literature of its own, it enrolled tens of thousands in its ranks, and 
increased more and more until the attention of the civilized world 
was called to the wrongs of Ireland. 

Its chief object is the resurrection of Irish nationality. It advo- 
cates civil liberty, religious toleration and education, believing that a 
people to be free must be educated. Its grand principles are those 
of Swift and Jefferson : " That all governments, without the consent 
of the governed, is the very definition of slavery." Its immediate 
mission in Ireland is the establishment of a republic based on that 
sublime truth, grand as the heavens stretched over our heads, "That 
all men are created equal." During the eight years of its existence 
it has excited the sympathies of mankind everywhere for Ireland ; 
it has spread its ramifications all over the British isles ; has called 
forth the admiring applause of the American Congress ; has shaken 
the wooden walls of old England, and has created a sentiment in 
Great Britain and throughout the world, which demands that justice 
be done to Ireland. The English nobleman talked with thoughtless 
impudence when he asserted that Fenianism was put down. In the 
language of Sam Weller, in Pickwick, " It can't be done." The 
like never was attempted, only when Xerxes flung chains at the 
Hellespont : — 

" And over that foolish deed has pealed 
The loud, long laugh of a world." 

The Irish cause is hopeful ; this is the brightest hour that unhappy 
Erin has ever seen ! 

" Thou art not dead, my country; thou art not conquered; 
Beauty's ensign is yet crimson on thy cheeks, 
And death's pale flag is not advanced there." 

The blow may be struck at any moment. Some of our country- 
men may regard the whole movement as an extravagant joke. I 
would say to all such heartless Irishmen what a bey said to a 
General in New York. During the war a boy met a Brigadier 



25 

strutting about the streets of New York, when his soldiers were 
fighting in the front. The boy cried out from his papers, "Another 
great battle." The General bought a paper and put up his eye glass 
to examine it. Not finding what he looked for, he said to the boy : 
" I don't see any battle here." " No, darn ye," said the boy, " and 
you never will while you hang round this here town." 

There is a grand battle impending in the old land, but while Irish- 
men's sympathies are so contracted and their hearts so full of 
prejudice, they will never see it. 

The great struggle in Ireland will soon commence. Courage rises 
with danger, and heroism with resolve. Does not our breath come 
freer, each heart beat quicker, when we read of those rare and grand 
acts of heroism when all doubt and wavering are flung to the winds, 
and the soul rises majestic over each petty obstacle — each low, 
selfish consideration, and flinging off the fetters of prejudice, bigotry 
and egotism, bounds forward into the higher, diviner life of heroism 
and patriotism — defiant as a conquerer, devoted as a martyr, omnip- 
otent as a deity. 

There may be a disposition to doubt the possibility of accomplish- 
ing the freedom of Ireland. It may be considered as the prompting 
of a sanguine constitution, and the day dream of an ardent and 
vivacious fancy. That there are immense difficulties to overcome 
— that to the progress of Liberty there is opposition such as no other 
system can encounter, is instantly and candidly acknowledged. 
There are religious divisions and long continued and deeply rooted 
prejudices to be crushed. There are the thousands of foolish 
Orangemen, who dance attendance upon the landlords, who for their 
own aggrandizement countenance the disgusting mummeries of 
Orangemen. There are the hundreds of English and Scotch 
peasants who hold offices under the British Crown. There is the 
aristocracy, and an army of spies, detectives, and informers. Then 
again there are the Clergy of all the Churches, with a few honored 
exceptions, such as the noble Archbishop of Tuam. In spite of all 
these obstacles, I have a steady faith in the success of our cause, 
and I affirm, without hesitancy, that the time will come, when 
grandly as of yore, Ireland, released from the grasp of remorseless 
Britain, will make her own laws, and be governed by her own 
children. And O, happy, will the year be, when thus the grand 
object of patriotic desire shall be accomplished, and the redemption 



26 

of the Green Isle shall be achieved. Then the oppressions and 
indignities of many centuries will disappear, not as by a prolonged 
process, but with the celerity of enchantment. Then the groaning 
of the poor for bread, will be hushed ; the woes and miseries of the 
people which now stalk abroad on the revelry of their sad dominion, 
will depart ; the passions of party which have long rent the harmony 
of the nation, will be charmed ; the symbols of bigotry will be taken 
down, and the entire Island will present a beautiful habitation of 
Love. 

This is an enterprise worthy of our most earnest and indefatigable 
efforts. Strive to feel it, my countrymen, in all its grandeur ; let 
the aspiration breathe in every scene ; be it in the buoyancy of 
health, and in the languor of sickness, and in the closing agony of 
death, let your last prayer be for the deliverance of the old land. 

Do you need illustrious examples to inspire ? Need I recall the 
honored and beloved name of Robert Emmett, who animated by an 
unquenchable zeal, and inspired by a lofty courage, died for Ireland ; 
and whose fine heroism and beautiful chivalry, constrained applause 
even from those who regarded him as an Enthusiast. There is 
something fine and elevating in the superb manner in which this 
high spirited youth upheld an oppressed cause, and maintained the 
majesty of an insulted country. I cannot imagine a greater privilege 
than the having been admitted to familiar intercourse with one so 
gifted with every Christian and patriotic virtue. The coldest heart 
would have caught something of his fire to have heard him deliver 
that memorable and immortal speech in the dock ; would have nerved 
even the most cowardly, to have marked his demeanor at the 
tribunal of the infamous Norbury ; would have taught the oppressed, 
that there may be liberty in chains, to have been with him in the 
prison and on the scaffold, when the tyrant's fetters were already 
upon his limbs, and the tyrant's sword was already unsheathed. 
There I would like to have observed him ; there I would have 
communed with him ; there I would have sat at his feet, eager to 
know what visions were floating before him, and to catch every 
word that flowed from his lips. "Who can question that there came 
to him in the solitude of his prison, glorious visitations from the 
invisible world, and that while the fetters were upon his body, the 
spirit soared as on eagle's wings, and communed with Regulus, 
"Winkenried, and the other victims of despotic goverments. Emmett, 



27 

on the eve of his martyrdom, must have gazed with rapture on the 
resurrection of that proud and glorious land, for whose sake he cheer- 
fully offered up his life. 

Shall I continue to cite the familiar names of such daring con- 
spirators as Porter, Barber, McNeil, and Stevelly, Presbyterian 
ministers who died on the scaffold. Sinclair, Jackson, Simpsonj 
Wiley, Episcopalian parsons who were united Irishmen. Russell, 
McCracken, Neilson, Monroe, Rowan, Harvey, Bond, Simms, 
Butler, the Tennants. Protestant gentlemen who were among the 
foremost and most desperate of the Irish Rebels of 1798. Then 
the brave and devoted Catholic priests, such as Murphy, Kearns, 
Roche and their compatriots the mention of their names, sends the 
blood quicker through our veins. May their memories be eternal. 
Or, coming down to later times, need I refer you to the young and 
glorious Thomas Davis, who when the laurels of applause were 
yet green upon his brows, and the road to honor lay open before 
him, abandoned all, that he might aid in Ireland's regeneration. 

Ireland will yet triumph. She will rise again like a young queen, 
proud and happy. Prosperity will run like fresh blood through the 
veins of her people. The green banner will be hailed in the port 
of Boston. Emmett's epitaph will be written. 

" Oh, the sight entrancing, 
When the morning's beam is glancing, 
On files arrayed with helm and blade, 
In freedom's cause advancing." 

This generous Republic that has furnished so magnificent a 
shelter for thousands of our countrymen, is with Ireland in the 
coming struggle. There have always been between the two nations 
the friendliest sympathies. When Franklin was ordered out of the 
London Parliament, he went across to Dublin, where he was 
received with distinguished honors. When King George demanded 
forty thousand Irishmen to cut the throats of Americans, the Irish 
Parliament refused to vote a solitary soldier. In 1861, when 
England threatened a war in case Slidell and Mason were not 
surrendered, ten thousand Irishmen met in Dublin and resolved to 
fight beneath the stars and stripes. Every Irish heart throbbed for 
us in the recent war. Ireland looks to America. The United 
States, in the language of the GalwaymaD, is " the next parish to 
Ireland." 



28 

The American Congress, the noblest body in the world, has 
declared its sympathy for our cause. Chandler, Wilson, Nye, 
Sherman in the Senate ; Banks, Logan, Judd, Robinson in the 
House, have spoken brave words for the dear old land. The bold 
and impressive utterances of the President are suggestive and help- 
ful. The leading editors, have championed the right of Ireland to 
representative government. The leading members of Congress are 
in genuine sympathy with our most cherished hopes. The men of 
thought and action, who smashed the fetters of the slave, are the 
devoted friends of Irish emancipation. 

We appeal to you to-night — is there a man among you who thinks 
that Ireland has not been sufficiently degraded in her honor and her 
rights to justify her now in fiercely turning upon her oppressor ? 
No, a man so infamous cannot tread the earth ; or, if he does, the 
voice of the coward is stifled in the dear, wild, ringing shout that 
leaps from hill to hill ; that echoes from sea to sea ; that peals from 
the lips of an uprisen nation — " We must be free" 

By the memory of Fitzgerald, brave as a lion, gentle as a lamb ; 
by the memory of the brothers Sheares, hung on the same scaffold ; 
by the memory of Wolf Tone, the first to organize Irishmen against 
the tyrant ; by the memory of the multitudes of revered men, 
murdered by England ; by the memory of Monroe and his gallant 
compatriots whose heads were spiked and impaled ; by the memory 
of Orr, the first to give his life for Union, and Emmett, the last to 
seal it with his blood ; by the memory of the recent gallant victims 
of British oppression, let us swear by our hopes of immortality, not 
only to break the fetters of Ireland, but try to raise her to a glorious 
elevation — defend her, liberate her, enable her, sanctify her. 



29 



The Publisher appends a brief sketch of the life of the author, 
furnished by the talented correspondent of "The Pilot" Laffan : 



The Peffees of Ireland are of Angelo-Norman stock. John 
D' Alton traces them back to the period of the invasion. In the 
ranks of the followers of Richard de Claire, or Clare, Earl of Pem- 
broke and Strigue, nicknamed, like his father before him, Strongboy, 
were representatives of the Pippards or Peppers of Devonshire, 
England. Camden, and in our own times, Dean Butler, credit a 
William Peppard, Pipard, or Pepper, with the erection of the origi- 
nal Castle of Trim, Co. Meath. It was rebuilt in the 13th century. 
Sir Richard Colt Hoare, in his Tour in Ireland, described the 
decaying structure as the only edifice in the country worthy of the 
name of Castle. In an historical point of view, it is one of the most 
important buildings in Ireland. It " proves of great utility to the 
general interest of the Pale, to which the influence of the English 
was for many ages confined." Several of the Anglo-Irish 
parliaments met there. "During the intestine wars of the 17th 
century " it was repeatedly the scene of important actions. It was 
dismantled soon after the year 1650 ; and it has ever since remained 
in a state of progressive decay." 

These Pippards or Peppers were somewhat famous in Anglo-Irish 
annals as founders of castles, monasteries, etc., especially in and near 
Ardee, Co. Louth, of which Roger de Pipard obtained a grant soon 
after the invasion. Ralph de Pipard surrendered the manor to 
Edward I. A grant of it was made by Edward II. to Sir John 
Birmingham, subsequently created Earl of Louth. The Pippards, 
descendants of Roger, were long known as Lords of Ardee, or 
Athirdee. 

Among the Catholic families of note in Dublin, who, by partici- 
pating in the famous Irish Insurrection of 1641, incurred the penalty 
of forfeiture of their estates, was a branch of the Peppards. Though 
Gilbert, in his History of the city of Dublin, makes no mention of 
them, D'Alton, in his County History notices them. 



30 

When James II. granted, in 1689, a charter to Dragheda, Igna- 
tius Pippard was Mayor, and two of his name were aldermen, and 
three, burgesses, of the city. They, like nearly all of their name 
and blood in Ireland, were Catholics ; and by their adhesion to the 
fortunes of King James they became practically outlaws in their native 
land, having been attainted by the representatives of the alien 
"William of Orange. 

George Pepper, who was editorially identified with the Pilot, in 
its earliest years, and who, besides his various editorial labors, 
commenced the publication of a really meritorious History of Ireland, 
which he lived only to bring down to about the period of the invasion, 
was a native of the County Louth. His birth place was Tallistown, 
near Ardee. "He died in Boston [May 11, 1837, at the age of 45 
years] of a violent cold and fever, caught from stripping off his coat 
to cover some unfriended countryman of his own."* 

Rev. Geo. W. Pepper, author of the very eloquent address on 
Ireland's Martyrs, which was published in full in the Pilot, some 
weeks since, is also a native of the Green Isle. He was educated 
partly at the Royal Belfast Academical Institution, and partly at 
Glasgow. 

In his native land, he won honorable distinction, as an earnest and 
eloquent advocate of the cause of temperance. To him, belonged 
the honor of having founded there, the Maine Law League, of 
which he was, for two years, corresponding secretary. He had a 
sharp controversy on the subject of legal prohibition with Dennis 
Holland, Esq., then editor of the Ulstermcm. He succeeded in 
calling attention to the terrible evils of intemperance and the neces- 
sity of adopting some measures to prohibit the indiscriminate sale of 
liquors. The first grand meeting, under the auspices of the Maine 
Law League, was held in Belfast, which was attended by the well 
known Philanthropists of Dublin, James Haughton and Richard 
Allen. The organization of branch societies became quite popular. 
Mr. Pepper was appointed a delegate to the mass meeting, held in 
Manchester in 1853, at which were present, John Bright, Richard 
Cobden, James Silk Buckingham (an author of numerous books of 
travels, and an old friend and correspondent of Mathew Carey, of 
Philadelphia) who cast all their weight and influence in favor of the 
temperance reform. 

* Mooney's History of Ireland, published by Mr. Donaboe, vol. I, p. 126. 



31 

Mr. Pepper had the pleasure of witnessing the rapid spread of 
temperance principles in Ulster, before he left his native country, in 
which, politically, he had been in active connection and sympathy 
with the Repeal Agitators ; and, subsequently with the Young 
Irelanders, of which latter party he knew and loved many of the 
leaders. 

He first met and became acquainted in Belfast, with the lamented 
Maj. Gen. Meagher, whose friendship Mr. Pepper thereafter enjoyed 
without interruption up to the time of the terribly sudden death of 
his beloved young chief, who, while living in Montana, kept up an 
interesting correspondence with his friend, Chaplain Pepper. So 
warmly was the noble Meagher esteemed by Mr. Pepper, that the 
latter had one of his children christened in honor of the fallen hero. 
In a very affecting letter, recently received by a friend, Mr Pepper 
thus touchingly mentions his beloved chief : " I loved him living, 
and mourn him dead. Peace to his ashes, and honor to his beautiful 
memory. In all my addresses, even in my sermons, I occasionally 
introduce his name." 

Mr. Pepper emigrated to the United States in 1854 ; and imme- 
diately entered Kenyon College, Ohio, for the purpose of studying 
theology. In due time, he was ordained a minister of the Methodist 
Episcopal Church ; and during the few years preceding the com- 
mencement of the Civil "War he served his church, most zealously, 
in the missionary field of labor. 

On the outbreak of the late civil war, in 1861, as an enthusiastic 
Irish-American, devoted — like the mass of his' element in these 
States — to the union and institutions of his adopted country, Mr. 
Pepper, minister though he was of the Gospel of peace, felt obliged 
by his convictions and duty to give all the aid in his power to his 
government. He recruited several hundred men for the loyal armies. 
He was chosen captain of a company of infantry, and chaplain 
of his regiment, 80th Ohio volunteers, at the same time. He 
declined the chaplaincy, and led his company into the field of action. 
During the campaigns in the Mississippi Valley, he was disabled, 
and forced to resign the command of his devoted band of " soldiers 
of freedom." His resignation had been scarcely accepted, when he 
was unanimously elected chaplain of the regiment for the second 
time. As chaplain, he continued with the command to the close of 
the war. He participated in the great " March to the Sea," and 



32 

thence northward through the Carolinas and Virginia, of the army 
of General Sherman. Of this famous " flanking movement," he 
wrote and published an interesting history, which has been highly 
commended by Secretary Stanton, as also by Major Generals Logan, 
Howard, McCook, and others. 

About a year since, Mr. Pepper, on the recommendation of his 
personal friend, and fellow Irish-American, was made a chaplain of 
the Regular Army, and assigned to duty on the field staff of the 40th 
U. S. Infantry. The appointment was given to him in consideration 
of his personal gallantry in several battles, and indefatigable devotion 
to the sick in hospitals, &c. 

As an Irish-American, of warm and generous impulses, Mr. 
Pepper has taken a deep interest in the movement of the Fenians to 
release and exalt their down-trodden fatherland. He met with much 
hostility from his Church, and also from its Bishops, ministers, 
members and newspaper writers, because of his military propensities, 
his devotion to the cause of the Union ; and, above and beyond all 
else, because of his active sympathy with the Irish Republican 
leaders. His motives were impugned ; his character was assailed ; 
and, to " cap the climax " of abuse, he was invidiously denounced as 
"a Jesuit in disguise." Nevertheless, he kept on his way unflinching- 
ly, and ultimately so completely triumphed over all opposition, that 
he had the gratification of witnessing the adoption, by a whole 
conference of two hundred Methodist preachers, with its presiding 
Bishop, of a series of resolutions written by himself, and expressive 
of sympathy with the Fenians in Ireland. 

In the agitation relative to the rights of naturalized citizens, now 
in progress, Chaplain Pepper has taken an active part. He has 
been in constant correspondence on the subject, and on the kindred 
topic of the sufferings and claims of his race, with Senators and 
Representatives ; and with officials of high rank generally, including 
Senators Wilson and Chandler, Representative Logan and Chief 
Justice Chase. In this way, though in official employment in the 
military service of his adopted country, he has endeavored to the 
utmost of his fine ability, yet limited opportunity, to discharge his 
obligations to his native land. 

The headquarters of his command having been, for some time 
past, at Goldsboro, N.C, this eloquent Irish- American there made 
it his duty to deliver in the presence of an alien body, and in a 
Baptist church, the magnificent discourse which entitles him to the 
lasting gratitude of his " countrymen in exile." His noble "record" 
is eulogy most meet for this gifted, zealous, and patriotic Irish - 
American. 



mmm^PJ. congress 



OPINIONS OF THEO 021 342 163 3 



NOW READY*. 

The lost Interesting Bool 

Ever Published. 



FENIAN HEROES AND MARTYRS! 

JBY JOHN SAVAGE. 



Historical Introduction on the 
Struggle for Irish Nationality. 

The Aucient Fenians, What They Wert-, 
Their Organization, Customa, I ites, 
fee,, &c. 



Heroes and Maru'v.s. 

1. *COL. THOMAS FRANCIS BOURKB, 

2. *COL. THOMAS J. KELLY, 

3. OAJPr. JOHN vicAFFEIM'Y, 

4. *COL. JOHN J. O'.'ONNOK, 

S (APT. WOKTIMEK MOR1AHTI, 

C. JOSEPH iMKISAX. 

7. CAPT. MICHAEL O'RORKE, (Beecher) 

5. STEPHEN J. MEANT. 

9. CAPT. PATKl K J. CONDON, 

10. PETER O'NEILL CROWLEY, 

11. CAPT. JOHN M'CLURE. 

12. JOHN EDWARD KELLY, 

13. MICHAEL DOHENY, 

U. *GEN. MICHAEL 'ORCORAN, 

15. JOHN O'MAHONY, 

16. JAMES STEPHENS, 

17. *THCMAS CLARKE LUBT, with Sketch ot the 
Propagandist of '40, 

18. PHILIP GRAY, 

19. *JOHN O'LEARY, 

20. *J. O'DONOVAN ROSSA, with Notices oi 
"Phoenix" Men— M. Moynahan, Capt. John O'Shoa. 
Col. R. J. Downing, Col. Denis Downing, 

21. *CHARLES J, KICKHAM, 

22. *DENIS DOWLING MULCAHY 

23. JOHN FLOOD, 

24. EDWARD DUFFY, 

25. MICHAEL CODY. 

26. *GEN. JOHN O'NEILL. 
BECLARVTIONS IN THE DOCK, with Notices 01 

Moore, the pike maker. John Jlultigan. Bryan Dillon, 
J. O'DoBovan, Thomas Duggan. Clus. Underwood 
O'Connell. John B. S. Casey (The Galtee Boy), Mi- 
chael O'Regan, John Kenneally, James O'Connor, 
C. M. O'Keefle, Cornelius O'Mahony, C. Dwyer 
Keane, H. M. Hanly Carey, D. O'Connell, William 
Roantree, P. J. Heyburne, Jas. Flood, Hugh F. Bro- 
phy, Patrick Doran, M. A. O'Brennan, John Lynch. 

SWORD AND PEN.— Notices oi Capt. John A. Geary, 
Capt. Jas. Murphy. Thomas Baines, John K. Casey 
(Leo), John Locke (The Southern Gael), Arthur 
Forrester and " The Council ot Ten," Gen. Fariola, 
National School Masters who were Fenians. 

DARING ESCAPES oi John Kirwan from the Meath 
Hospital, Col. Leonard irom Drogheda; Release oi 
Col. Kelly and *Captain Dacey irom the Prison Van 
In Manchester, and Capt. Laurence O'Brien from 
Clonmel Jail, with Notices of their Lives. 

"ERIN'S HOPE," the so-called Fenian Privateer, 
which sailed around Ireland. 

COLS. NAGLE AND WARREN— their case. 
NOTE.— Those with a * have Portraits. 
The whole forming a B.*>k oi over live hundred' 

pages— to be hound beautifully in green and gold, with 

suitable devices, and eoid for the low price or $2. Sent 

iree by mail. 

1ERMS. 

For Lots of 100 and upwards, $1.20 per copy nett cash- 
" under 10U, and not less than 24, $1.27^ per 
copy nett cash. 

For Lots under 24. $1.35 per copy nett cash. 
The Cash must accompany the order, otherwise they 

will be sent by express " C. O. D.," with expense ot 

collection added. 
AGENTS WAN TED— To whom a liberal Discount 

will be made. Address PATRICK DONAHOE, Bos- 
ton, Mass. 



FENIAN HEROES AND MARTi'RS. Edited with 
an historical Introduction on "The Struggle tor Irish 
Nationality," liyJohn Savage, author of "'98 and 
'48, the Modern Revolutionary History and Litera- 
ture oi Ireland." &c.,ic. Boston: Putrick Donahoe, 
pp. 461. Prti 

Mr. Savage is known not only as an Irish 
patriot and as the chief executive of the 
Stephens wing of the Fenian Brotherhood, 
but as a graceful poet, and a uleasant essay- 
ist. No man is better fitted than he to write 
the history of the Fenian movement, and to 
chronicle the fearless patriotism and noble 
endurance of the Fenian martyrs. His book 
contains a sketch of the struggle — nine cen- 
turies old for Irish independence ; the origin 
of the Fenian Brotherhood, and its history 
up to the present time, and a full account of 
the career of those Fenians who have braved 
death and met imprisonment by their devo- 
tion to the Irish cause. He writes graphi- 
cally, and in a spirit of fairness toward all 
parties, and his book will interest the stu- 
dent of history quite as much as the enthusi- 
ast in behalf of Irish nationality. — N. Y. 
Citizen (Miles O'Reilly's paper). 

"Fenian Heroes and Martrys" is the 
title of a volume John Savage has writ- 
ten, and Patrick Donahoe of the The Pilot, 
has published. It is not necessary for us to 
say that the Fenians celebrated in this vol- 
ume were either "heroes" or "martyrs." — 
For us, each of these are sacred names. — 
But, without going so far as to carry com- 
mon people off their feet, it is easy to state 
that the poor fellows proscribed as Fenians, 
were gallant and patriotic persons. As such 
they are entitled to Irish support. — New 
York Freeman's Journal. 

Fenian Heroes and Martyrs. By John 
Savage, Boston ; Patrick Donahoe. 
Baltimore : Kelly & Piet. Price $2. 

This work is bound to be sought after with 
avidity by those who have at heart the 
Fenian movement. At any event it contains 
sketches of noble spirits, who, whatever may 
be thought of their cause, cannot fail to ex- 
tort the admiration even of their enemies.— 
Catholic Mirror. 



